House of Salvatore
by brokenxinsanity
Summary: Damon Salvatore's childhood wasn't one for the faint of heart. The only person he told his deepest, darkest secrets too was Rowan Levesque, a childhood friend who knew him better than he knew himself. What happens when Present Day Damon lands himself in trouble and the one person he thought was long gone, supposed to be dead for 50 years, comes back to save him? Rated M.


Sixteen year old Damon Salvatore ran after the girl, grabbing her waist as soon as his legs caught up with her. He spun her around, her laughter piercing his ears. It wasn't everyday that he enjoyed someone else's company as much as he did her's. There wasn't a soul on the Earth that connected with him like she did.

"You're a terrible player, Mr. Salvatore."

"Nonsense, Ms. Levesque," Damon grinned as he set her feet back on the ground. "I'm a great player."

Her green eyes stared up at him as she removed herself from his grasp. Those eyes turned mischievous and she took off once again, her bare feet pounding against the muddy field. There was a look of sheer surprise on Damon's face before he took off after her again, for the second time that hot afternoon. Her laughter as he raced after her continued as Damon kept a few paces behind her, enjoying the moment.

"Boy!"

Damon stopped running, recognizing that voice from all the nightmares that plagued him and turned around. His father began walking toward him. Rowan had stopped a few feet behind him. She wasn't a fan of Giuseppe Salvatore and the look of disdain on her face proved that as she walked up and stood behind Damon.

Giuseppe stopped just a nose away from Damon with a look of pure hatred in his eyes. He smelled like alcohol and cigars. It was enough to make Damon want to gag.

"You were supposed to clean the stables, not be out here with the bastard of a councilman!" Giuseppe spat, his eyes glancing at Rowan, who fearlessly glared at the older man.

"Stefan doesn't have to do half the things I have to!" Damon retorted.

"What did you say?" Giuseppe raised a brow.

"I said, Stefan doesn't have to do half the things I have to!" Damon glared at his father.

Giuseppe grabbed Damon by the collar of his shirt and instantly the elder Salvatore knew was coming to him. Damon spotted Rowan out of the corner of his eye and silently told her to leave it alone.

As soon as they reached the house, Giuseppe threw Damon through the threshold with such force that Damon knew something might have cracked as he landed on the hard floor with a thud. The crack of the horse whip that his father had hanging by the door made him flinch and he tried to shut it all off. He tried to shut out his mind, to not feel the pain that he knew was about to be inflicted.

He focused on her. Rowan. The beautiful dark haired girl that occupied his every thought. Her statuesque frame, porcelain skin, and piercing green eyes were only a few of the many things that entranced him. She wasn't afraid to get dirty, nor was she afraid to stand up to people she didn't like, which was why he liked her so much. She was a spitting image of himself. She could be a nightmare one minute and an angel the next. It was a delirious ride and he wasn't about to get off anytime soon. She was, in more ways then one, his addiction and he wasn't going to give her up easily.

Damon faintly heard the whip scrape across the skin on his back, but that didn't mean he didn't feel it. The searing pain jolted him from his thoughts and he felt it all. Damon forced himself not to scream in pain. It would give his father satisfaction and he wasn't about to give it to him. The whip cracked against his back again and Damon nearly lost his mind. Over and over, his father kept at it. It was nearly two hours later that Giuseppe finally grew tired and left his son in the foyer.

He forced himself to get up once he heard his father slam the door to his office. Every step he took was like setting his bones on fire. He was just about to reach the door when a pair of hands steadied him. Damon looked into the eyes of his girl, full of worry.

"Let's get you outta here." She whispered as she helped him down the stairs and toward her house.

It didn't take long for them to reach Rowan's house and as soon as they did, Rowan's older brothers were waiting for them. Dimitri and Zach took Damon from her and brought him to the back, where Rowan's mother's garden house was. It wasn't a garden house anymore, as Rowan turned it into her own escape house.

Zach and Dimitri helped Damon onto the bed and left without a word.

Rowan took a seat in front of Damon and took his face in her hands. His cheek was cut open and his eyes looked hazy.

"Damon, hey look at me."

He did, which told her that he was still there. Still with her.

"Can I touch your back?" Rowan whispered, her thumb brushing over his cheek.

It took a moment for Damon to nod his head and Rowan began working quickly as Damon exposed his back to her. She gathered herbs and medicine to mix together to numb the pain. Anything that would help him, she gathered. Rowan sat on the bed behind him and looked at the open wounds, counting at least a dozen five inch open wounds. With miraculous precision, his father had cut open one of the old scars on his back, reopening a piece of his terrible past. Rowan only knew very little of what went on with Damon when he went home, saying it was his burden and not her's. She disagreed all the time, but never spoke anymore about it until now.

Cringing slightly, Rowan dabbed the mixture lightly on his wounds, hearing him hiss softly in pain. Quickly getting off the bed, Rowan brought back a glass and held it out to him. "Drink this, it'll help with the pain."

"I'm fine." Damon whispered, his voice hoarse.

Rowan kneeled in front of him again. "Damon, you need to drink this, it'll help."

Damon looked her in the eye.

Rowan stared defiantly back at him.

After staring at each other for a moment, Damon caved. He took the glass from her and downed the whole thing in one drink. Handing it back to her, his mind was already going fuzzy. Rowan now looked like a blurry blob standing miles away from him.

Rowan help lay Damon down on his stomach so that she could work on patching him up.

"Sleep, love."

Damon faintly heard her as his mind shut down and he was forced into a slumber.

The next morning, Damon woke to the sun shining through an inch of a gap in the curtains. He laid on his stomach still and as he attempted to roll over, he noticed that his torso and back had been bandaged. When his eyes fully adjusted to the light, Damon saw Rowan sitting there across from him. The sun was shining behind her, casting a beautiful glow around her. As Damon sat up and threw his legs over the bed, he held his head.

"How do you feel?"

"Numb." Damon replied.

Rowan smiled softly at him. "The drink I gave you last night.. it was something my mother cooked up when I was a child and my father used to smack me around. I found it in her journals shortly after she died and been making it better each time."

Her head turned away from him and gazed toward the window. "I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you quicker.." She wrung her hands in her lap. "I.. I didn't want your father to see me."

Damon tugged on her hand and pulled her over to him. For over ten years, Damon only shared his pain and torment with one person and for ten years, the woman standing in front of him had been there, constant and never wavering. It was something he cherished more than his own life. She kept his secret, even challenged him. A perfect woman for a damaged soul like him.

Slowly, Damon reached up to cup Rowan's face in his hands, his lips lingering dangerously close to her's. He could smell her breath on his lips. Strawberries. Her favorite. Damon could feel her pulse beat quickly under his fingertips, the heat rising in her cheeks. He could her hear breath quicken. So much so, that it brought a tug to the corner of his mouth, just a quick tug before it was gone and Damon had captured her lips with his.

Rowan had dreamed about this moment for years, ever since their mothers put them together on the play mat while they chatted away, drinking tea and eating cookies. It was just like she had imagined, too. His lips were soft - something that she always knew, just by glancing at them whenever he wasn't looking. She dreamed of what it would be like to be in his arms, even though she had been in them countless times before. Not like this though, as his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him. So close to him, that she could feel his heart beat through her dress.

Despite his childhood, he was still gentle. She wondered how he could keep that, after everything. His father took his anger out on Damon and not Stefan, because Damon didn't let him. It was something she would never understand. Mama Salvatore died shortly after Stefan was born, so one would lead to think that Stefan would get the abuse when their father started drinking himself into a stupor. But he hadn't.

Damon's lips had moved to her neck now and it brought a delirious, spine-tingling sensation down her back and spread throughout her whole body. It made her feel fuzzy inside. A feeling that only Damon could bring out in her. No other boy had any interest in her, all because she would rather be in the mud, playing with the pigskin than shopping for dresses and attending charm school with the other girls her age. But Damon saw something in her that the rest of them didn't.

Her free spirit and will to survive.

Damon's hands moved to cradle her waist, and Rowan let him. Despite her own father being her tormentor, Rowan would gladly let Damon Salvatore explore her body. Because she knew she was in good hands, despite what she'd been told by others. Despite being told he was a player and a ladies man, Rowan trusted him with everything that was in her soul.

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What do you guys think? Should I continue? Leave your answer in a review! I know I haven't been around writing much lately. I've had a rough year and my brain hasn't been in the right mind to write a half decently written story. But I'm back! So tell me what you think! :)


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